One Angel
by Fobmaster
Summary: Murphy Macmanus has always had his brother by his side. He could never imagine what it would be like without him...until now. What will murphy's actions make him do? And, is there some possible way, to maybe be Connor's salvation? Suck at summaries, please read
1. Chapter 1

One Angel

Chapter 1: Death

...

Connor was shot.

...

It was my fault...

...

I should have been watching him...

Ever feel like something has been taken from you? Whether it was money, your wrist watch, or anything of personal value, something you absolutely can't live without? At that very moment, the three words that came from my Da's mouth were the most hardest to hear.

"Connors been shot!"

My finger froze over the trigger of my black Beretta. My blood turned into ice, and my stomach jumbled into tight knots. Bullets whizzed past my head, and I dared a glance toward the bloody form of my brother. I wished I hadn't, because the image is still in my head. A bloody hole was smack dab in the middle of his chest, oozing with the red liquid. Connor's eyes were closed.

"Get him te hell outta here!" I screamed at my Da. He looked very concerned, and quickly ducked behind a table near Conner's body.

My gun kept firing, but my hand wasn't under my control. I was truly scared. My brother, my own blood and flesh, was shot.

And the painful aching of my gut told me he didn't have much time left.

….

**_August 1_****_st_****_, 10:08 AM (that morning)_**

My usual morning routine consisted of dragging myself out of bed, downing my first cup of coffee, and waking my dumbass of a brother. Today was no different. The morning sun poured through the windows of the room in the back of McGinty's bar. Doc was letting us stay here on account of us arriving in Boston a few months ago. It was a pretty cool hideout actually. There was a pool table, a fridge loaded with imported beer, and heating from the clunky old furnace. Connor was still asleep on the bare mattress, with only his jeans on.

I rolled my eyes, and kicked the side of his stomach, not hard, but enough to make him feel it. He let out a low groan, and opened his blue eyes, his face was hilarious, a mixture of surprise and confusion. It made me chuckle a little bit. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, giving me a dirty look.

"Mornin! Did ya sleep well?" I greeted him, and handed him a cup of black coffee. Just the way he liked it.

Connor rubbed his face and glanced at the windows. He sighed and gave a tiny smirk.

"On account o' my wake up call, it was pretty good."

I smiled, and threw him his shirt, "It's been awful quiet the past couple o' days, hey Con?" I said as I thumbed through the newspaper.

Connor pulled his shirt over his head, and nodded. "Aye. 's been real quiet. Wonder where all the assholes are?"

I nodded. "Maybe we scared te shite outta them and they left town."

Connor chuckled. "What? Their scared of ye? A pipsqueak like ye ran them outta town? Pfft, yeah right."

I glared daggers at him, and rolled the newspaper up, and hit him on the head with it for acting so stupid. I was scary! I could kill all those bastards with my pinky. But right when I was about to say something witty about how Connor was stupid, the phone on the wall rang. Connor ran away from me, and answered it.

"Hello?"

Connor chewed his bottom lip and listened for a few seconds. His face seemed serious. That meant we had a job.

"Where exactly?"

I grabbed a piece of paper and pencil, and handed them to him. He quickly wrote down the address, and hung up.

"Da says he knows a couple of guys who deal. We gotta go take care of 'em."

Drug dealers? Great. Those shit heads were nothing but trouble. Boston had plenty of crime committers sure, but Drug dealing was the biggest problem in the city. It was our job to take care of them, and get rid of them. Connor got his black peacoat, and shrugged it on.

"Let's go."

I followed him out the door. We were on our way to the underground armory.

…..

…..

"We gotta get him outta here Murphy, help me lift him."

I couldn't look at him. It was too disgusting and painful. My own brothers blood, spilled. And it felt like I had been shot in the chest.

"Careful now."

Da and I lifted Connors body off the ground, careful enough no to bump him the wrong way. Because if we did, we could've made the wound worse and more painful for him. We needed to get the hell outta there, and get him to a hospital. They could easily extract the bullet and everything would be fine. But once again, my stupid gut was telling me otherwise. I was absolutely determined to get him to a hospital. Connor's warm blood soaked into my hands. It felt weird and sticky, but it was scary. I had never seen so much of Connor's blood. It felt like boiling water against my skin.

"Through here." Da pointed, and we rushed Connor to the car, settling him into the back seat and making sure he was comfortable enough.

Da drove like a maniac down the roads of downtown Boston, weaving through cars like a basket. I stayed in the backseat with Connor, applying pressure to the wound, and trying to keep him awake.

"Stay with my Con." I said, my voice monotone. Connor's eyelashes flickered, and a puff of air escaped his lips. He was defiantly struggling to stay awake. No matter how much pressure I had on his chest, the wound wouldn't stop bleeding, and it scared me to think that my brother might be dying, That my twin was slowly slipping away to God. A few minutes later, and we were at the hospital, Da screaming at the nurse's in the lobby for help. The trained nurses came out to the car and carefully placed Connors trembling body on a gurney, and wheeled him down the hall way. Da quickly explained to the lady at the desk what had happened, but he was fabricating the story so it wasn't all true.

My eyes were glued to the floor. It was white tiled, and it looked like it needed to be mopped. It was white everywhere. The walls, the doors, the chairs. Da had me sit in one of those white chairs. I was quiet, he was quiet, and I shut out everyone that was in the room. I bowed my head, folded my hands, and started speaking to God. Pleading with him to save Connor's life. Confessing my sins. Pleading for forgiveness in what I did to make this happen. I prayed…..and prayed…..and prayed until I fell asleep in the white chair, next to my Da, dreaming about Connor.

…

A gentle hand was placed on my arm, and I jolted awake, to see a female doctor standing beside me. Her face displayed nothing. That was not good.

"How is he?!" I sprang up, almost knocking her to the ground.

She composed herself and sighed. "What is your relation to him?"

I hesitated. "He's my brother."

"And is this your father?" She gestured to Da, who was in the process of waking up.

I nodded, and looked her in the eye. What I saw was sorrow.

"Sir…..your brother….He didn't make it."

…

Connor….was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi! enjoy:) feel free to leave a review**

Chapter 2: Life

_My name is Murphy Macmanus for those of you who don't know already. I was born in Ireland, with my Ma and Da, and my twin brother Connor. When I was a kid, Connor was my best friend. We did everything together, except shower because that would be disgusting. Ma made us go too church every Sunday. She made us pray to God every night and morning, and She made sure we were well educated on the Bible. Soon, she started drinking, and me and Connor picked up the religious habits. _

_We knew each others secrets. I still haven't told Ma about how Connor had gotten access to the liquor cabinet at the age of 15. He made me swear, that I wouldn't tell her, and that he would kill me if I did. Of course, I've kept that secret ever since then. And looking back at all the pranks and jokes he pulled on me, I should've told Ma. We would share everything, from clothes, to toys, to favorite cereals and sodas. When I started smoking in freshman year, he did too. When I got my first tattoo, he did too. When he started growing facial hair, so did I. It was like we were connected. _

_Me and Connor were fraternal twins. Which means we don't look exactly alike. He was the better looking of the two of us, I suppose. He had tan skin. He was lean and muscular all over. His blonde hair was always spikey and cool looking, and his blue eyes captured any pretty girl he wanted. Me? Well, I have dark hair. Pale skin, and the same blue eyes, that would always "show my emotions" as Connor would put it. He'd always know if I was upset or angry, and he always made it better. _

_We almost always argued. It was as if we were an old married couple you could hear yelling down the street of your neighborhood. Or biggest argument was when Connor said he was the oldest, that he was more mature than me. Ha! That was a lie, because we were both immature all the time. But, I do have to admit, he felt like the older one to me, though I will never admit it. He's always looking out for me, making sure I'm okay and stuff. I felt protected._

_When we grew into our mid twenties, we made the decision to move to Boston Massachusetts. Looking for work, and a fresh new start. I remember the first night that we moved into our loft apartment, I was scared, and so was Connor. A new city, with a different kind of people. It was like we were reborn or something. I remember worrying about our job opportunities, how we were going to basically survive in the concrete jungle. But good old Connor, seeing the bright side of things said this to me._

_"Everything happens for a reason Murph. We came to Boston, so there must be a reason."_

_The first year was surprisingly easy to come by. We found jobs at the local meat  
packing plant. We made friends with a man who owned a bar called Mcginty's, and made a ton of friends, like our good buddy Rocco. We went to a catholic church on the South side of Boston. Life was good. Until one day Doc, the bar owner, told us he was closing down. A couple of guys came in and they were part of the underground Russian mafia. They bothered us, and told us to get the fuck out. But one thing I know for certain is, don't mess with the Irish on St. Patty's day. So, we all roughed the couple of Mafioso's up, and left it at that._

_The next morning, the same guys broke into our apartment. And boy, were they angry. They made Connor handcuff himself to our dirty toilet, and they took me by the collar of my robe, and dragged me out into the alleyway. They placed a black gun to my head. I was truly scared at that moment, but I dared not show it. I would've given the Russians the satisfaction the wanted from killing me. But, all the sudden I saw a flying toilet overhead. It landed on the Russian guys head, and his gun fired off. Connor then came flying through the air at the other guy, and landed on top of him. The two Russians did not get back up, and neither did Connor. I quickly collected the guns, jewelry, and money from the dead mafia guys, and hoisted Connor onto my shoulders. From there I took him to a Catholic hospital._

_Of course the cops came along and investigated our apartment, and discovered we did what we had to out of self defense. We met this FBI agent, Smecker. He was a cool dude. He knew about everything. From the toilet crashing down, to the gun going off by accident. When he proved us innocent, he offered us to stay in a jail cell for the night because of the local press. _

_That night was when Me and Connor's life changed for the absolute better. We were asleep, and all of the sudden, God himself sent us a message. A legit message from God. He said, kill all that is evil, so that all what's good may flourish. And from then on, Me and my brother were the Saints of Boston. The Boondock Saints, Killing all the bad guys who were rapist and murders and drug dealers. We even executed a major mafia boss by the name Yakavetta. We had to leave Boston though, due to it being to publicized, and the fact that the police wanted to arrest us. We left Boston, and went back to Ireland with our Da._

_We eventually came back to Boston after hearing about a priest being killed in a church, and people were thinkin WE did it. We continued killing bad guys for several months, and we are st- I'm sorry…..Da and I are still in the process of finding this fake Saint…._

_Why did I share this with you? I want you all to know that my brother was NOT a bad man. He was the best guy you will ever meet. He was a very compassionate, faithful, kind man that could make you laugh anyday. He was my other half. He was what I lived for. But he's gone. Because two months ago, he was shot and killed on a job. I'm leaving this note next to my body, so that everyone will know our story. About the REAL saints of Boston. _

_"And shepherd's we shall be, for thee my lord for thee._

_Power hath descendth fourth from thy hand, our feet swiftly carry out thy command._

_So that we shall flow a river fourth through thee, teeming with souls shall it ever be._

_Et nomeni patri et filli, spritus sancti ._

_….._

I took a shaky breath. I had spent the last hour writing this note for whoever will find me like this. I couldn't take it anymore. My brother was gone, and it wasn't ever going to be the same anymore. My heart felt empty. My head felt gooey. My feet felt heavy. I was going to end my pain and suffering once and for all.

I picked up the black Beretta, my hand shaking and trembling. Hot tears were rolling down my face, and I let out tiny little sobs. I didn't want to do this. But, at the same time I did. I wanted to desperately be with my brother. My other half. Knowing that some of it was my fault. I should have been there for him in the hospital. Holding his hand until the light left his beautiful blue eyes. Telling him everything will be okay. Telling him God was watching him. Telling him my last goodbye, but I didn't even get the chance too. And that's what led to this. No one would probably find me in here for at least a couple of days. Doc rarely came back here to check up on us, and The room at the back of the bar was too far away from the rest of the crowd.

"I'll see ya soon Con…." I whispered hoarsely.

Slowly, the barrel of the Beretta inched up to my head.

I sucked in a breath….

And pulled the trigger.


	3. Chapter 3

**thank you for the first review lily. Glad you like it.**

Chapter 3: Two

There was no bullet. There was no bang. Only a tiny click of the gun told me that I hadn't checked the magazine for bullets.

I let go of a breath that I was holding in. Relief flooded over me and I slumped to the ground, hot tears pouring down my face. My heart was pounding away a mile a minute. I was truly scared of myself. What was wrong with me? I almost committed the biggest sin in the entire bible, and I had miraculously been saved, or I was just that lucky to be alive. Still, I could feel God's eye's staring down at me disappointedly, as if to say "seriously?" I also couldn't imagine what my Brother would be saying. He would've called me stupid or selfish for trying to commit suicide. Connor would have been so pissed at me. My body wracked with sobs and the tears kept falling. My pain was still present, because I wished that bullet would've pierced my brain and made me die. But, then the tough part of me immediately told the sissy part of me to shut the fuck up and stop being a pussy. I'm supposed to be God's saint right? The doer of good. But the sissy part had overtaken my life the past two months.

You see, We had a private funeral for Connor. We picked out the cheapest coffin we could, and had the priest at our church bless him, and give him our prayers. The, it was my idea to ship Con's body oversea to or home country; Ireland. It only made sense because we both loved it there. Of course, I was a complete mess. Crying and wailing for my brother to come back to me, to hold me, to tell me that he loved at least one more time….but no….that never happened. A few days after we shipped his body overseas, I had to take up the task of going through his stuff, and getting rid of it. That was really hard. Connor and I didn't have very much. Just a few articles of clothing that we shared, our Berettas, cigarettes, and a few personal items. I decided to keep Connor's clothes. They smelled like him, which was comforting. He often carried the scent of cigarette smoke and peppermint. It was a good combination, and it reminded me of when I would hug him, or when we shared the same bed as kids. Good memories I wanted to keep for myself. His Berettas I kept too because they were irreplaceable and too valuable. I Put them in a ziploc bag and stored them in the tiny closet where all our stuff was. The personal items consisted off collectable beer bottles, a half gone cigarette pack, a picture of Connor when he was eight with a tooth missing, His rosary, and other bits and pieces. I threw away the beer bottles, because he gave up that collection a long time ago. His rosary and the picture of Connor I also placed in the Ziploc bag with the guns. And I kept the cigarette pack for myself. That was the hardest day of my life. I felt like I was riffling through Connor's personal life, even though I knew everything about him. But I felt a little bit better afterward.

Then, most nights I would spend in the bar alone, Drinking a big glass of Guinness. Doc wouldn't bother me though, he was just upset about Connor's death as I was. I usually just drank until early morning, and then I would go sleep half of the day away. The saint job, boy was that tough. A few weeks after the funeral, I went on a job by myself…..but I couldn't do it. Absolutely could not do it. It was too hard to think straight, and I knew I would end up murdered if I went in there alone. So, I haven't been keeping up on that either. Da got real angry with me about it. Of course he got over Connor pretty easily and quickly, and that just made me angry with him. So I haven't been talking to him lately.

And here I am now, A complete mess of emotions that I can barely keep under control. The sun filtered through the glass windows, and casted little shadows all around me. I watched them dance across the floor as the sun rose higher into the sky. It was early in the morning now. It was nice to stop thinking for a moment, let my mind take a much needed break from my chaotic actions. I sniffed and rubbed my nose, and scrubbed a hand through my hair. I got up and walked over to the small bathroom. The mirror was big enough for me too see everything. The dark circles underneath my eyes. The worry lines written across my face. My eyes were bloodshot, and when I lifted up my shirt, I almost gasped, because my skin looked like it was stretched over bones. When you're depressed, I guess you forget to eat. And right now, I was starving my ass off. Maybe a good burger would help me think straight.

9:00 AM, and I'm in a dinky diner close to the church I go to. A large burger, large fry, and an ice cold coke were laid before me, and I was eating like a madman, Shoveling bite after bite into my mouth. From the diner booth I could see the top of the church, where there was a Jesus Christ on a cross. I hadn't been to church in two weeks at least. I was too tired to go, and to drunk. There was a lot I needed to confess too. And then a thought popped into my head. I should go do that, beg for forgiveness. Maybe I could tell Connor how sorry I am, and that I love him and miss him. I finished my burger quickly, and dashed out of the diner, heading towards the church.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you Reedus Fan! your comments made me smile, and more confident on writing this next part! enjoy :)**

Chapter 4: Confession

"Bless me lord, for I have sinned." I whispered.

The church was absolutely empty when I got there. Not even the priest seemed to be here either. This place wasn't like any other churches in my opinion. This one in particular was very large, traditional with its own spunky flare. From the vibrant stained glass windows, to the granite floor, it was very beautiful. There were ten rows of pews. One on the left, and one on the right. An aisle separated each side, and it ran all the way to the front of the church. A small table with two candles and the bible sat on it, along with a statue of Jesus Christ himself. Knowing my fate, I trudged to the bench right below the statue, and kneeled on it. I took a deep breath and sighed. Usually, Connor would be right beside me, confessing his sins in a whisper. He'd listen to me too, because I spoke them out loud as well. And if I missed one, he would gently kick my leg and laugh. I know that sounds disrespectful, but hey, what can I say?

The statue loomed over, big and ominous. The gold eyes of Jesus bore holes into my head, and I finally folded my hands to take care of what I came here to do.

"Dear lord, These past two months I have not been well. I've lost me brother Connor, y'know, the guy who was the saint? Yea, can ya please look after him? He's probably annoying ye, but just give him a chance."

I smirked a tiny bit, realizing that I greatly missed my brother. But the image of that situation made me smile, something I hadn't done in a long time.

"And please forgive me of my sins… every single one of them."

I'd rather not say them out loud, in case someone happened to be around here. But, I also felt like if I said it out loud, Connor would hear. And then he would be upset with me for making or even considering the choice of suicide. I know I have problems. I know that other people would call me crazy…..but Connor was my other half….

I brushed myself off and ended the prayer with a amen. Then I leaned in and kissed the feet of the statue. It still glared at me, but not so threateningly any more. I turned around, and slowly walked down the aisle of the church.

On the way home, I walked along the boulevard, a cigarette between my lips. Nicotine seemed like my only best friend right now. And I knew if I kept it up, my lungs would turn into pieces of shit. But I didn't care. The sooner I'm out of this world, the better. And I'm probably going to hell for saying that.

A piercing scream interrupted my self pitying, and I turned my head in the direction where it came from. A lady was running down the street, yelling for help. A man dressed in brown and black chased her. And judging by how the man had his hand in his jacket, he had a gun, and he was going to shoot this woman. My original instinct would have kicked in, and I would've flocked to the woman's rescue, but I was actually having second thoughts. Call me evil, if you will. Tears were streaming down her face, and she rounded the corner of a building, only to be confronted by another man, grinning maniacally at her. HE pulled on her arm, and she yelled for help. No one came to her rescue though.

"_Come one Murphy….." _the tiny voice said in the back of my head. IT sounded urgent, and a lot like…..

Connor.

"What am I supposed ta do?" I asked stupidly.

_"Help her."_

I don't know if it was the voice sounding like Connor, or what made me do it, but I ran up to those two men, and punched the first in the stomach. Hard. He fell to the ground with an anguished cry, clutching his belly. The second guy came at me from behind, but I got him right in the face, square in the jaw. He stumbled back a little bit, and started coming at me again. I saw a broken piece of piping laying on the ground, so I picked it up, and started to hit him on the head with it repeatedly. I was knocked out cold. The first guy got up, and started to run away, scared.

"Pussy….." I murmured.

The woman sighed in relief and smiled.

"Thank y-"

"Save it." I muttered, and walked away.

Everyone around us had their eyes on me, but I ignored them.

….

The empty room behind the bar was _very_ welcoming when I got home. Empty, Cold, and Dark. The fridge had been restocked courtesy of Doc. Opening a cool Murphy's Red, I plopped down into the plastic chair next to the window. The view was beautiful usually. The city skyscrapers rose above the ground like mighty giants, the cars would shine in the sunlight, and the river would sparkle. But today, it just made me even sadder than usual. Connor loved the view. He would take me down to the riverside every once and awhile, we would have a frosty beer, skip rocks, and joke around. God I missed him. Just thinking about him sent tears to my eyes. I hung my head in shame as the slipped out unwillingly. My poor brother was dead because of me…. How could I lose him!? HOW COULD I BE SO SELFISH AND STUPID! **WE **WERE SUPPOSED TO LOOK AFTER EACH OTHER! GAH! In frustration, I hurled the plastic chair I was sitting on across the room. I heard glass shatter, and I quickly stalked over to see what had broken. It was a framed photo of me and Connor., ten years ago.

The picture was taken on our 24th birthday. We looked so young and happy together. Connor's hair was all blonde and spikey, a half smirk on his face. His blue eyes shined at the cameras flash, and he was holding up a slice of pizza, as if in a toast or something. My hair was a lot shorter then, and I was looking away, smiling and grinning away like a normal happy person. Our arms were wrapped around each other's waist. Genuine happiness was what it was. A tear landed on the cracked frame. And I sniffed.

"I'm gonna make it up to you Conn….."

And so it begins.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Reassurance

Working at a frickin meat packing plant sucks. It's the only job me and Connor could find when we first came to Boston. And it was always fun, making it a competition between who could pack the most pieces of meat in one day. I'd usually win because Connor would be fooling around with the other workers, or he was taking a cig break. But today, I came through the doors, a sullen face put on. The other workers greeted me, but I paid no attention to them. My mind was wandering to other place's. Place's that it has never wandered before, because I didn't want it to. The place was dark, and cold. Almost scary. And then I imagined Connor huddled in the corner, naked and shaking. I immediately pushed that thinking out of my head, because I wanted Connor to at least be happy where he was. He was probably in heaven, laughing and making jokes, sharing a beer with God, and just enjoying his time without me.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Imagining Connor beside me, whacking me with a piece of raw meat. I heard his laugh, and I imagined the shouts and hollers from our co-workers, cheering either me or Connor on in our meat fight. But when I opened my eyes, he wasn't there. And there was no shouting or fighting going on. Averting my focus to the meat conveyer belt, I started to sort the pieces out, getting cold wet blood on my gloved hands. I stared at my fingers, rubbing them together, and then it hit me.

This was Connor's blood.

I yelped, and tore the gloves off, throwing them on the ground in scared disgust. My fellow co-workers stared at me in confusion.

"Murphy, are you alright?" I heard someone ask, but I was already bolting out the door, tearing off the white coat that protected my clothing. I ran, Ran as fast as my legs could carry me. People along the streets of downtown Boston stared at me, but they were all blurred by my tears, and how fast I was running. I didn't know where I was running to, but I ended up by the Charles River. It was a cloudy day, and the air was freezing. The waves of the river crashed and lapped the bridge's supports. The whole city looked even shittier because of the fog that had settled over it this morning. I hung my head over the railing, and clasped my hands together. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks, and soaked my face. I didn't care if I was out in public, or that the cold air was nipping at my skin. I just couldn't go back to work. I couldn't go back to my normal life anymore, no matter how hard I have tried these past months. I can't be a saint. I can't go to work. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't even walk two steps without crying. That's the problem with me. I did everything with Connor, and it felt like walking on nails and sharp pieces of glass, it hurt so much. I just hated this feeling so much, it was tearing me apart slowly. First my sanity, and then my body, and then soon enough, my soul. And then, i'd be nothing. A disappointment to everyone I know. Especially to Connor. And as much as I didn't want to be that to him, I could not help it.

I raised my head and gazed down at the unforgiving river, as if pleading with it to rise up to the balcony, and sweep me away underneath the cold waves, gulping me into a quiet oblivion. Just so I could be with Connor.

_"Don't"_

There it was again…that tiny voice.

_"Connor?"_

There was a bit of silence for several minutes. MY hopes rising and immediately falling. But then the voice spoke again.

"_Stop it. I'm right here fer ya Murph. Just keep tryin."_

I sniffed, and rubbed my nose on my sleeve, tearing my gaze from the river. I took a deep breath, shaking with whatever emotions were inside me, I don't know. My heart raced, and my thoughts had once again turned to suicide. Connor would have smacked me across the head for being so ignorant and stupid. He would've called me a dumb wop, and given me a nugie. I always hated his nugies, because he made sure to dig his knuckles extra deep into your skull. I could feel him rubbing his hand on the side of my hand, where a migrane was going to form later.

"_I'm sorry"_

I didn't expect the voice to reply, but it did.

"_Keep tryin Murph"_ It repeated.

Keep trying what? That confused me. I almost wanted to ask the voice again what it meant, but decided to let it be. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just me being delusional and stupid, hoping that some crazy part of me was actually Connor. But without speaking to it, the voice said something that made me stop walking.

"_I'm here Murphy. I'm here with you."_

Insides were churning, yet they were instantly filled with some kind of warmth. Like a body was right next to me, and it was a good feeling. Reasurrance, I guess. I knew he was here then. I wasn't going bat shit crazy. And he was really here with me. If Connor was actually here with me, I had to tell him something before he was gone and tucked away in my head.

"_Connor, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I miss ye so very much, and I love ye to death."_

I waited. And waited, and waited. But there was no answer. By the time I had gotten back to my room at the pub, there was still was no answer. I felt rejected instantly. Connor must've been really mad at me. And I knew he must not have heard me. He had to not have heard me. Otherwise he would have answered. I couldn't take this depression shit anymore. I needed him back now. I needed to at least tell him I was sorry, and that I loved him and that I would never forget him at all. I had to find a way to tell him. I just had too.

And I was determined to do so.

**Thanks for the reviews guys!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay so we are getting to the really exciting part soon...maybe a few chapters, but i'm not sure because I don't want to rush it at all. I feel like I am though...oh well. So, the climax of this story...some of you maybe wondering what the hell it is. I'm not gonna say, because I want you guys to be shocked...or something. I don't know just read my stupid writing, and maybe leave a review? ok here you go**

Chapter 6: A plead with God

I always though coffee tasted like nothing. I doesn't actually, it's bitter, hot, and disgusting. So why do I drink it? I sure as hell don't know, because it makes me more awake maybe? Pfft, I don't know. It's November now. A cold, Fall morning, and I'm sitting in this damn diner once again, having coffee. I've been coming here more often, because it's kinda nice, despite the old waitress who gives me the stink eye every once and awhile, and the big grease stains on the walls are really disgusting. But it's better than my cooking I tell you that much. November. The month of giving thanks as the American people like to say. I kinda liked thanksgiving. It's got all that a man could ask for, wrapped up in one big holiday; food, beer, and football. Connor and I, we never really celebrated it. I don't know why….maybe because we were both terrible cooks. Yeah that's probably why. Anyways, last year, was the first actual time we had the big turkey meal. Except…..it wasn't turkey. Since, we were back in Ireland last year, we asked Da to make us a big dinner on the same day as thanksgiving. He was a pretty good chef, so, he made us stuff like salmon, and soda bread, and some bacon and cabbage. Not exactly a "Thanksgiving", but close enough for us. When we sat down to eat, we joined hands, and said a prayer. I said the prayer out loud, and it went something on the lines of, "thank ye God, for this meal, family, friends, and all the good in our lives, amen." Secretly, I also told God thank you, for keeping me and my brother, and my father safe from evil. After that, me and Connor joked around with each other, even making our Da smile a bit. The food was good, and we all had a good time…

My coffee turned cold, so I left a couple of bills on the table for it, and left the diner. The cold air bit at my neck, so I pulled the collar of my jacket up as high as I could. My boots thudded against the cold cement. People were walking by me, talking to each other in person, or on their cell phones. Laughing, smiling, shouting…basically a Boston morning. I know, nothing is as innocent as it seems. There is crime everywhere in this city, whether you see it or not, it's there. I was supposed to be my job to clean it up and make it a better place…but it was just impossible anymore. My partner wasn't here, so my chance's of dying were higher, and I didn't want to speak to my Da. After what he said about just moving on and forgetting Connor. His own son for godsake.

The church was only a few blocks away, and I supposed I should go do more confessing because let's face it…..i'm a mess.

But when I got there, mass was going on. I didn't know they held mass on Wednesday mornings, I just thought at night. Weird. Well, while I was here, I might as well take a seat and listen to the pastor.

"…Salvation. Some people have different meanings. It can be the protection one needs from loss, destruction, or risk. Some people prefer the meaning of it being the realization that Life, Truth, and Love can destroy such illusions as sin, death, and wrong desires. Others see it as redemption after death…"

Perfect. Just what I needed.

"Those all have to do with God in some way. He is, your Salvation. He is your protector of all things evil. He is your Salvador, he gives you redemption after death…."

My mind flickered back to a memory from when me and Connor were still in Ireland, way before the saint shit happened. Me and Connor were about fifteen. We were walking home from school, we couldn't afford a car, so we walked. And as we were walking, Connor and I had blood dripping from our noses and mouths. Today, some punk ass boy called me a Jesus freak, because I was carrying my bible with my pile of books home with me. Connor, being as protective as he was, immediately told him off. The boy though, wouldn't have any of it, and he punched Connor in the nose as hard as he could. But, Connor was way too fast for him. He punched and kicked back as hard as he could, and then I joined in. The boys friends came to his rescue, and punched me in the nose, making it bleed. Connor unlatched himself from the boy, and spat at him. I remembered when Connor grabbed my shirt, and pulled me home after that. We didn't really speak on the way home, because we knew Ma was gonna cut off our dicks and burn them. We both got no supper that night, and were sent to bed early. Connor started chuckling and said I was going to be a wrestler one day. I smiled at the thought of me being a wrestler…but my mind went back to what the priest had said.

Now I was listening. I sat up straighter in the pew, taking in each and every word the pastor said, and put it as a mental note. Connor had Salvation when he died. He was given a second chance with redemption, I'm sure of it. He was protected sure, but I had an idea. What if I…..could be Connor's Salvation? What if God, could give him a second chance? Give Connor another shot at redeeming himself?

"The test between you and God happens when you die. To gain Salvation from your savior, you must live a life without sin, and do good deeds. Of course, we are human, and sinning is our nature, but that is why God sent his son Jesus Christ to die for our sins. If we believe in God, we are guaranteed access to one of the most sacred places that is mentioned in the bible. Heaven."

I was up and out of my seat in moments. I felt eyes on the back of my head as I exited the church. Cooking up a plan in my fried brain of mine. If Connor had Salvation….which, knowing him he did, That meant Redemption. And Redemption meant a second chance…..If I could some how ask God for him to give Connor more Redemption, to bring him back,…..no. That would be so stupid of me to think I could some how bring my brother back from the dead…but even though I told myself that, I couldn't shake the idea out of my head as much as I wanted to. I needed to try.

For the sake of my sanity and love for my brother, I was going to bring him **back**.


	7. Chapter 7

**New chapter! thanks for the wonderful reviews everyone, I feel all warm inside and stuff. Enjoy:)**

Chapter 7: A Trip Across The Ocean

All week, I have been up all night, going what normal people would call crazy. But, I'm contemplating all my possibilities and plans in my mind.

Ever since last Wednesday, I've been anxious. I have contacted so many people back in Ireland, I think the whole damn country knows what's going on. I haven't told Da yet, like he would actually care. And Ma, well, she's too drunk to even hold the phone. But I've arranged myself to get on a boat and go back to my homeland. Just like I did a few months back with Connor. Of course, it was illegal…..but we had no choice. And that's also how we met our good friend Romeo…..I wonder where he is? Nevertheless, I'm going back to Ireland no matter the cost.

Don't ask, it's a secret…

Only God and possibly Connor know what my true plans are, and that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you.

Some part of me is happy that I get to go back and see the beautiful hills and grasslands of Ireland, but on the other hand, I dread it. Because, it's where I grew up with my brother. Only good memories were made there, and I would've liked to keep it that way, but I can't. not ever again. I don't know how I'm going to pull this shit off…it's almost impossible…..in fact, it is impossible, and I'm just being an optimistic dumbass with half a brain. But I've got to try. I know Connor would have for me, and he'd also do it for Ma, or Da. So my mind is made up, pushing all the negative side effects of my plan. Like Connor always said 'You've got the visualize the end result. You've got to force it into reality. Believe. You've got to fuckin believe.'

Actually, that's all Connor was. Optimism. He always thought the the positives of stuff we encountered, like when we went on our first hit job, he told me the rope would work. He told me to just shut the fuck up, and it would all work out. Boy was I thankful he did grab that rope that day we went to the gun locker. He even said that the night he got shot….Just fuckin believe!... this time I wished I had. Maybe he'd still be alive. Come on Murphy, pull yourself together. But I must admit, when he first told me all that stuff about believing that we'd be alright after this, I was always unsure, always the negative party pooper that was worrying all the time that some shit would hit the fan….

I snapped my mind out of my critical thinking session. Those seemed to happen a lot lately, it was kind of weird. But I had to get ready for tomorrow night. I was leaving on the fuckin boat, and I had to pack all my shit in a sack. My three pair of jeans, my wad of cash, guns, bullets, all my shirts…two bottles of Jameson…..just in case.

And that night was a long one. I could not sleep at all, I was too excited and sad at the same time if that's even possible. I climbed out of my makeshift bed, and stood up in the dark room. Darkness surrounded me, and usually, I would have pushed it away, and have gone into the light, but tonight, I just welcomed it. I had already let it overtake my life, so what the hell, might as well say hey.

The stars out my window glimmered like gems. Gems that could never be touched. That's what Ma always told me and Connor. And tonight, they looked like something you'd find in a treasure chest, they were so beautiful. But, as I admired them, I also felt compelled to hate them as well. I just wanted to…..steal those gems, and keep them for myself. How could something so beautiful, turn someone into a such an ugly person?

_"That is an easy one Murphy"_

I nodded in agreement to the little voice. A beautiful women, car, house, or anything can turn a man into an ugly bastard. It was just so hard to believe. Yet, it isn't because there are tons of evil people in this world. And then I got thinking…what I'm doing….is it evil? Well, I'll find out when I meet the Lord someday, but for now, I going ahead.

So, back to looking at these stars. I could see some constellations like the Big Dipper, and The Crux and stuff, and it was cool and all, but it still made me sad. I just felt so god damn lonely, and I guess you could call me selfish for wanting him back so badly when he's in a better place, but I need him. I need him so much it hurts. And then the tears come flowing like tiny rivers along my cheeks, and I just bury my head in tiredness, and just utter sadness. It was just so exhausting, and I wanted it to all end. Whether it be that Connor comes back, or I die or what I don't know. I just want it to end.

_"Dear brother, please go te sleep."_

I lifted my head from my arms and stared once more at the sky.

"Aye…" I whispered, and I sighed. I then made my way to my bed, and just plopped down face first, and immediately falling asleep.

….

The bar was quiet. Dark. No Doc, no one at all. Sunlight peeped through the tiny cracks between the blinds, but it did nothing to brighten the room. Three shot glasses were lined up on the bar counter, and I figured, they were for me, as selfish as that sounds. I pulled the stool out, and sat, folding my hands, and running my dry tongue over my lips. I was not alone. Because, the bar stool to my right was pulled out. I turned my head a little to see who the stranger was. And shock filtered through my body.

"Rocco?" I asked, and then I smiled, probably for the first time in months. But wait,…..Rocco…..died last year…..

"Not too shabby Murphy, you look good."

I smirked at that and chuckled, boy was he full of shit.

"Ye look good Roc…" I said with a pat to his back.

Rocco smiled and reached behind the counter, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. He poured three shots into the three glasses, and then handed me one.

"How's heaven?"

Rocco downed his shot and grinned, adjusted his sun glasses and then spoke.

"It's great man, you should see it for yourself."

Well, if Rocco liked it, that must mean Connor does too.

"Where's that lug of a brother of yours eh? He was supposed to be here by now…." Rocco questioned.

My smirk fell, and I downed my shot real fast, so that it burned in my throat. At least it kept me from answering.

"He ain't comin." I finally managed, and I looked away, wishing I could be anywhere, but here at this moment.

"No no, he is, I told him earlier that he had to."

I turned to look at Rocco, and I was just about to answer him, when the door opened behind the bar. The one that led to my room in the back. And yet again, Shock filled me up.

There, standing behind the bar, looking as smug and happy as could be, was My twin brother. Connor. His hair was blonder, and he looked a few years younger actually. He smiled and pointed at me, and started to laugh heavily. Rocco joined him, and handed Connor the shot of whiskey.

I couldn't speak, and Connor drank his shot. He then turned to me, and was about to say something, when everything went black for me.

…..

My eyes shot open, tears were in the corners of my eyes, and I sprang up, breathing heavily. I searched the room for anyone, but no one was here. I quickly pulled some jeans on, and ran out the door to the pub, but my heart dropped when I got to the front room.

All the stools were on the counter, and the lights were all off, and no one, not even the ghost of my dear friend Rocco, or my brother, were there. And I just couldn't comprehend it any more. Everything just….stopped.


End file.
